#mila's fics

[stylezxsilvermoon]

but I'd bet we'd have really good bed chem » chris s. smut

"come right on me, I mean camaraderie! see it in my mind let's fulfill the prophecy"

» chris smut one-shot based off of the storyline of "bed chem" by sabrina carpenter (in my opinion) (this may or may not turn into a series! let me know if you want more!)

wc: 4k (got carried away, oopsie)

warnings: 18+ content, youtuber relationships, oral (fem receiving), porn with plot, no use of y/n, poc friendly, fem pronouns, kinda teasing chris?? play mocking during sex, mutual friends of the triplets mentioned (they have a minor role)

this is my first chris smut (so pls be kind! feedback would be really nice!) and also I literally don't have Instagram so if the details were off use your imagination ☺️

a/n: yall i haven't written smut in literally forever, i'm more of a fantasy creative story writer so this is SO out of the realms of the comfort zone, but i'm all about pushing boundaries of my imagination so here ya go!

excerpt: sierra dawson is a bit of an it-girl, she's a popular youtuber/vlogger, all of her fans are all up in her dm's and comments begging her to meet chris sturniolo, and when an influencer party comes up hosted by one of their mutual friends, well she just has no reason to ignore the call from the universe pulling them together, right?

Sierra

The silence in the room is getting loud. And I mean, really loud, most likely because I never expected this to happen. I've just uploaded my latest video addressing the drama. It looks like any other youtuber's video, I'm sat on my bed, cross legged and looking into the camera. The video has been up for exactly 10 minutes and the comments are already flooding with more fuel to the fire. My editor and I are rewatching the video to watch for any mistakes or parts that may need to be addressed later, a deep frown settles across her face.

"I think you may need another video on this." She nods "I mean, everyone wants you together, it's crazy." She nods once more, almost coming to the final verdict that my youtube career might as well be screwed the fuck over because of a man. One singular man, Chris Sturniolo.

"I don't understand why everyone is so hooked on this! I mean, I've never even seen the guy in person." I say, my attention split between her puzzled face and ghosting over Chris' "follow" button on Instagram.

"It's fate, I suppose." She shrugs "But hey, your friend Jake is hosting a party at his and roommate's place, you should go." She says "Maybe that'll put all the rumors to rest, the triplets already said they were going." She says, and I stare, dumbfounded.

"Oh yeah, sure, because the answer to putting the rumors to rest is, to show up to a party I'm sure he'll be at?" I question, as if sniffing out the bullshit in her tone.

"Sierra, if you have to meet him, you might as well be at a place where you’ll know he’ll be, so everyone can stop fantasizing about it happening." She explains calmly "But it's up to you, don't just do it because of the fans."

I hear my own voice echo off of the laptop we're watching the video/live reacting to comments on.

"Guys, I'm not dating Chris Sturniolo, so quit asking!" I say in an exasperated tone, but it's all jokes, there's no real bite in my voice.

I'm mulling over my answer to alot of things at the moment, whether or not I will follow him back and become mutual, announce I'm going to this party, because I just know we're going to be doing content. And I'll be seen with him, which means edits, lots and lots of edits.

And I have to admit, he's not that bad looking either, and he seems like a nice guy, along with his brothers they seem pretty chill. So is it really lose/lose like I'm painting it out to be?

Either way, I bite the bullet and smash that follow button and watch my screen light up with comments within the next few hours. If I'm going to be in a fire-flamed flambe of chaos, I wanna be the one holding the kerosene. I click on Instagram and post my weekly photo dump and tap my screen with my nail as I figure out what I want to caption it. But I decide to just ride this train of chaos while it's here. Because regardless of the complications of attending the party, I am still excited to go, so I might as well show that.

see you there @.jakewebber, ready to party hard and see all of our friends, including someone...special👀

I sit and watch as the comment section quickly is filled with conspiracy theories on what my 'cryptic' message could have meant. And what the implications are on the current situation, especially all of the drama surrounding me. But, I see something that absolutely shocks me, after I scroll for a hot second, I see Chris comment that same eyeball emoji I had in the post with a question mark.

And my whole world just explodes in that very moment, but obviously I try to keep it cool, even in the midst of every social platform I'm on ripping their hair out at the notion of a single reply. But regardless, all of it is to implode ten-fold once the event actually comes around. I scroll through Chris' Instagram for a few moments. Based on this and the content I've seen of him and his brothers, he seems like a pretty nice guy. And god, is he attractive, very attractive, I try to keep a tiny smile from creeping onto my face at the notion of being deemed 'fated' to him by our fans and the prospect of meeting him later on today.

I'm starting to like the idea, like a lot.

Chris

Who is Sierra Dawson, you may ask?

Well, according to sturniolo nation she's 'meant to be' with me and we should definitely start dating 'just because they say so'. Which is a bit bullshit. But regardless, us meeting was inevitable, and besides, I've been seeing her everywhere. It's almost like a sign, which i almost hate in a way.

I'm walking into the party at Jake's when I see Sierra walking in as soon as get finished greeting Jake. And woah, she's even more beautiful in person, dark skin and bouncy curls, a total knockout.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the famous vlog girlie with the bad rep?" I tease as I walk over, and it's as if I automatically register in her mind as who I'm known as, which is good.

"Sierra," She says as she gives me a brief hug, which I respond to in kind as I give her a little side hug.

"So what's your reason for being here? The comments?" She teases a little bluntly, which I quickly begin to like.

"Pretty much, and Jake, and we're doing some content together obviously which is really exciting, I do enjoy a good collab." I nod as I look down at her, she's a bit shorter than me, but not abnormally so.

"Is that so? A collab you say, so would you say that we are..collabing?" She asks, teasing a bit more, which causes a smirk to break out like wildfire across my face, and a bit of a blush as a chaser.

Oh boy, great.

"At this moment, I'd say so." I nod, attempting to be at least a little professional, this is our first time meeting. "I'm a big fan of your work, you always come up with good content ideas, I'd love to be in one of your videos one day." I remark, already loving the energy between us.

"Oh my gosh shut up!" She laughs "I'm a huge fan of you too, you and your brothers are hilarious." She nods, her eyes lighting up at the notion.

It only takes a moment to see that for once, in this case, the fans were actually right.

"You free next week?" We both end up saying in unison, before laughing.

"I do recall you following me on insta, but I don't remember receiving a dm." She says snarky tone, almost as if she's almost unwilling to admit the fans were right.

"Oh, you don't recall, huh?" I repeat as I pull out my phone and flash her account in her face, pointing to the following button. Not willing to give in first either.

After a very comfortable stand-off, she ends up breaking and pulling out her phone and texting me on insta, little did I know, those three little words could mean so much more later on.

‘hey, wanna collab?’

“There, it’s official.” I say proudly, as I hold my phone in my hand as I replied ‘sure, since it seems like the fans want it so much. 😊’

Sierra

As the party went on, the large group of influencers began posting content for the party so each of our individual fanbases knew their faves were linking up and collaborating. The news spread like wildfire, as expected.

Nothing too crazy, Jake did his longform content, as did I. Did a couple TikTok’s, until I had an idea just then.

“Do a tiktok with me?” I asked Chris, which was sitting to my right on the big couch we all were sitting on, as he nodded.

“Course,” he said, scooting closer so we could both get in frame together, which caused me to be hyper-aware of the closeness the entire time. I could feel the fabric of his clothes against mine, which was a jean dress with a black chunky heel, and for Chris, a blue fresh love hoodie and some jeans. After I got over my irrational fear of closeness born out of this situation, we lip sang to ‘bed chem’ by Sabrina Carpenter.

After I’d posted it on my account, he looked at me with a peculiar look. “Don’t you think that song is a little…presumable?” He jokes, but with a little serious tint in his tone.

“Maybe?” I teased “I just felt like it matched the vibe of the situation, is it bad?” I ask, biting back the urge to just rage-quit and delete it before anyone could see, there was still time until-

Too late, my phone began buzzing in my hand, great.

“You’re in for a lot more conversations about us then.” He chuckled warmly as his palm found it’s home on my knee, at the end of my dress, just where the hem was. I fought the urge to melt into it.

I couldn’t explain it, everything felt so natural with him. It was almost as if fate really was pushing us together. And by fate, I mean the fans, but maybe…I assume because we’ve just both been seeing each other everywhere for a bit.

I look down at his palm, large and a little veiny and then back to his eyes, he looked for reassurance if the move was okay before I nodded discreetly and relaxed against the sofa.

“I’ve been seeing you everywhere lately, it’s safe to say you’re on my mind a lot.” He says after a moment of silence.

“Me too, seems like we can’t keep each other’s name out of our mouths, huh?” I say, which causes him to sport a lopsided prideful smirk. Insinuating a dirty joke in my words when there really wasn’t. But, if you squinted…. there perhaps was.

“I was not talking about that, I’m not saying you’re in my mouth- I mean.” I say before rolling my eyes at my mis-speak

“Sure,” he nods cooly “Let’s believe that Sierra.” He smirks again

“Don’t go marching off to the fans saying that shit.” I laughed a little, before we both begin laughing at the nightmare that’d cause.

“’Course not.” He nods, very serious but very toned down, the party isn’t all that highbrow. Very low brow and mellow, just some drinking and talking between mutual friends, and maybe…. more?

“Can you imagine? God we’d never hear the end of it.” I nod, as I unconsciously get closer, the heat of the moment drawing us closer.

As the party goes on, Chris and I continue to get a little too close for comfort, and the urge to do something with him grows closer by the second.

Until, finally, I break, shattering like glass.

“You think the fans were…right?” I gulp, speaking over the loud music, and Chris is only a hair away, staying close to me the entire party. Every time he gets up to talk to someone or his brothers, he returns right back to me. And despite everything, it sends a small thrill through me, like lightning.

God, I can’t actually want him, right?

“Hm?” He teases, inching closer and throwing an arm over my shoulder for extra affect, gazing at me with those blue eyes of his as I stare back, dumbfounded.

“They were…right, I think.” I say, as his face all of a sudden goes soft “You think so?” He says gently, before it twists into a mischievous smile.

God, he’s doing all the right things, all the right moves, it’s crazy. Is this what my fans were talking about? If so, thank the heavens above for all of this drama

⁕

The party goes on for a bit longer, until everyone gets a little too sloshed and it begins dying down. After several down-low comments to Chris, we’re both feeling a little wound up to say the least. Or at least I’m feeling the heat, more than anything. And the worst part is it’s the middle of August! Everyone’s heading out, as I make my way out, as I see Chris over to the side, waiting for me at the door.

It's almost already been established something is going down tonight, I just don’t know what. But I have a feeling I won’t be able to walk tomorrow, I’ll just have to do a sitting-down video for sure. Can’t let the fans see me limping…or maybe…no! Absolutely not! But the temptation is so strong, I can hardly resist it. All I know is that little devil on my shoulder looks a lot like Chris.

I’ve barely known him for a few hours, and I already want to jump his bones? I’m all about taking risks today, might as well keep the streak strong, right? But this isn’t just a follow or a text, this is real. But people take risks all the time? After all, as they say, don’t take the flight if it isn’t worth the fall.

“Hey.” He says, breathing smoothly into my ear as he walks me to my car, since it’s dusk dark outside.

“Hey.” I reply back, turning to face him, as his eyes are going haywire, up and down, behind me, to my face, to my tits. 3 key words; what. the. fuck.

“So, were the fans, right?” He asks as we stand against my car, watching everyone wave us goodbye as Matt stands dangling the keys to their van on his finger. From what I’m gathered Nick and Chris don’t know how to drive, and they certainly all came together.

“Yeah, they were, I think, we should try something. Don’t you agree?” I tease “After all, giving the audience what they want can’t be so wrong, right?” I smile slyly as I look him up and down, as he nods curtly. The unspoken conversation between us clear as day.

“I’m heading home with Sierra Matt, I’ll see you later.” Chris says to Matt as he gives him an odd look, overly uninterested because he’s sure he’ll be hearing it all later.

“Okay…” Matt says as he walks away and hops in the van, as he watches it drive away.

No going back now.

⁕

We make it there, and I give Chris a home-tour while I’m still at my wits. It takes the edge off of things and gives us some time to figure out whether this is about to happen or not. I head up to my bedroom, the place where I mainly film videos, the bed sheets are a plum purple and there’s a dream board above the bed. But, I’m sure he’s already seen it on his phone if he’s heard of me.

“Woah, behind the scenes.” He nods “Sierra’s studio…” he muses out loud, as I pat the bed, and he gives me a peculiar look.

“If you say so.” He says a tiny glint of excitement in his eyes.

The night turns into midnight, and our minds begin weary, and we begin to blur the line between proving the fans wrong and falling harder, for sure. In fact, I’m confused why we hadn’t met earlier, even.

We lay on my bed, our feet dangling off the bed, talking and talking for hours to get to know each other, even after the party. Everything still feels so much, I still feel the buzz of music in my ears, the pounce of the pavement against my heels.

“They were right.” He sighs, running a hand through his brown short hair, his earrings glittering as he moves his head in the slightest.

“Why do they always have to be right!” I groan, but there’s no real bite in my voice, just like the video, just like tonight.

I keep making choices I know will not lead to the rumors to an early grave, in fact it’s really leading them to a euphoric beginning of an everlasting life. Each comment, edit and rumor pumping life into the veins of something between us.

Usually, fans drive people apart, but tonight? I couldn’t feel closer.

“You like that they were right.” He smirks as he turns to me, looking me up and down.

“I do, I really do.” I nod, inching closer, as his hands clasp my waist all of a sudden, and the world’s feeling smaller than usual. The bed, that usually cascades for what feels like miles feels small and cramped with him in it.

“And I was right, wasn’t I?” He smirks, his lips creeping closer to my ear, pressing a kiss there.

“Is this really about being right?” I ask, gasping at the feeling.

“You started this.” He reminds me, maintaining that power over me, and I feel the sparks of chemistry in my veins like tiny fireworks.

“Did not.” I pout like a child, but there’s no use, I’m already wrong.

His head turns to me, stopping to make sure this is really what I want, seeing if I’ll defy him, defy what the fans had said about us. About what would happen.

“Oh, Sierra, you so did.” He nods, teasing further and further, reaching for the hem of my dress, testing the waters gently while remaining on the absolute edge of defying the fates that’s been set before us.

“Now what happens next, is up to you and me, not the fans.” He hums

“Of course I know that.” I scoff, pulling him closer gently and running my hands through his hair as he closes his eyes in bliss, and I take the chance of his eyes being closed as a sign of risks being taken.

I kiss him, he kisses back ever so gently, his lips coasting against mine like a California shoreline. Fizzing and bubbling with chemistry.

“Fuck,” he hisses, pulling me closer by my thigh, effectively parting my thighs as he slips between them. We kiss for a bit longer before he takes control, getting on top of me quickly, it’s like a flip switched between us.

“Gonna fuck you now, okay with that?” He smirks between kisses

“Yeah.” I breathe heavily as he nods against my lips, taking a moment to breathe as his lips drift down my neck as his hand finds my clothed core, rubbing over it like a mad man.

I yelp and attempt to close my legs, but he keeps them open.

“Ah-ah.” He tuts as he pulls away, I instantly sit up before I watch him take off his shirt, his toned body casting shadows against the dim-lit room. The crevices of his collarbones being explored by the shadows entices me.

In this time, he ever so gently gets my dress off, the Jean dress coasting on a smooth zipper, his hands down my back, grabbing and feeling until it’s off, and I’m in my bra and underwear. He whistles at the sight.

“Beautiful.” He smiles softly, continuing to rub my core as he returns to my parted legs. He dives in for a deep kiss, tongue and all. His hands are all over, mine are all over him too, all in his hair as I grind against his fingers.

“If you want me to do anything, gotta get these off hm?” He teases as I lift my hips as they come flying off within a split second.

“Good, very good, oh Sierra.” He muses, his voice breaking with emotion “the fans were right, I am going to destroy that cunt” he says, before I can even blink his lips are all over my clit as I gasp and my legs shake.

“Chris-“ I cry out, grabbing at the sheets as he works his fingers between my folds, stuffing them in my mouth before pushing them in my pussy.

“Mhm, yeah, what were you saying in that video?” He says between kissing and licking my pussy. “Guys I don’t like chris sturniolo!” He mocks as I’m eating it up like a flame does oxygen, his fingers working on my clit now as he’s circling around my hole, stars in my eyes.

“I didn’t say it like that.” I whine as his other hand goes up and shoves his fingers in my mouth.

“I don’t even know him! We could never happen!” he mocks again, a teasing glint in his voice “Oh Sierra, look at you eat those words.” He says, his voice muffled by my pussy as he eats it like he’s never ate in his entire life. His tongue flat licking over my pussy like a starved man, sucking from my clit like he’s desperate for air. And when I start getting close, he keeps up the teasing as I grasp at his hair.

“That’s it sweetheart, mhm, come for me.” He slurs, not pulling away until I’m over the edge.

“God you’re so! Gah!” I cry as I come apart on his tounge “Chris! Fuck!” I shout as I collapse against the bed, the orgasm wracking through me like a freight train. Chris keeps on rubbing on my clit like a mad man.

“Satisfied?” he asks, smug as ever. “You came all over my face, you’re gonna pay for that.” He remarks with that glint in his eye.

It’s clear to me that we’ve only just begun.

⁕

Chris

Within minutes I’m balls-deep inside Sierra Dawson. Which is something I never thought would be happening. Regardless, we’re both moaning like crazy people, fans be forgotten, bed shaking, earth quaking.

“H-holy shit.” I say, bottoming out again and again as I hit that special spot.

“Don’t say it.” She grits, still holding onto that bit of bratty attitude and resistance despite coming multiple times underneath me.

“Oh?” I tease as I suddenly stop “Say what?” I ask curiously, hands above my head in a uncaring manner, smug. “Could do this all day sweetheart.” I smirk

“Alright fine,” she remarks, and within a second I’m already back to it, and her back is arched off the bed. Kissing the hollows in her clammy skin that’s somehow frosty and flaming hot all at once. Must be that hot-n-cold attitude.

“Yeah…” I coo in her ear, biting it gently, slowing down just a bit. “Because I’m not inside of you right now, mhm?” I tease, tilting my head to meet her lips gently, kissing her slowly.

“Put some respect on my name next time you make one of those little videos huh?” I say in a snarky tone as I look in her little Bambi eyes, fluttering and filled with those fucked-out tears.

“God.” She says, throwing her head back, hiding her gaze from me as I snap her head right back, grabbing her pretty little face.

“Look at me sweet thing.” I say gently. We’re both close and we know it too, and within seconds I’m bursting inside of her and she’s coming perfectly on my cock, eyes wide and looking at me.

⁕

Sierra

After everything, and I mean everything I never expected that to happen. Or maybe I did, maybe it’s all in my head...

The next morning after Chris and I shower, roll around in bed talking each other’s ears off, we decide to film a Tiktok, maybe just because of the controversy, or we just wanna be little bitches to our fans.

We lip-sing to bed-chem once again, but this time a different line different time.

“Come right on me! I mean camaraderie!” I lip synch while looking in his eyes as he sings the back vocals “bet we’d have really good bed chem.” 

And later on, after it’s posted, it’s clear the rumors is thriving and creating new theories on things we never even thought possible, or even true. Pregnancy, rebounds, covering for what happened last night at the party, since we were seen together and even more ridiculous fantasies.

But we see a special comment that catches our eye “they’re so cute together!”

We each like that one on our insta after we post some pictures together from my bed. Which can only mean one thing, to the fans at least, a collab. They may never know what we’re up too, and it’s a mystery for me too, even. I never expected things to take such a turn. But alas, Chris’ shirtless body in my bed sort of makes all the rumors worth it, even if they’re only just rumors.

Or are they?

a/n: yall I totally got carried away with this PLOT lord, but I had really alot of fun writing it, let me know if yall want a part 2? I feel like it's sort of open ended so I could do another sabrina carpenter short n sweet song one-shot for Sierra and Chris or make it a series? Whatever yall want to be honest! I like both ideas, I think I'd do Juno next if I did, but a part 2 to this storyline sounds kinda cool!

also yall sorry the smut was so bad😭 I never write smut like literally ever so that part of it was kind of short and I know that's the main part but I've literally never written chris before so I was freaking on writing him kinda accurately so..yeah

all the love, stylezxsilvermoon! (I'll add this to my masterlist later on and make a series masterlist if you guys end up wanting it!) I'll make a tag list for anyone that wants notifs for the next part if I make one? Umm I'm new to this LMFAO, comments, reblogs and likes are totally appreciated!

[pisupsala]

Hitchin' a ride

Or two times you told John Egan no, and the one time you said yes.

Part 1 of Are You Going My Way?

John "Bucky" Egan x female!reader Words: 7k Warnings: mentions of blood, wounds, hospitals

It gets dark early in winter in East Anglia. By the time you leave the ward, it’s pitch dark despite it barely being past dinner time. Huddled in your dark blue wool cape, you trudge along the side of the road, holding a small torch to light your way. There’s a cold, biting wind tonight, and it feels like it’s going through every layer you’re wearing, straight through your bones. Breath shuddering, you pick up your pace, the gravel barrier between the road and the grass crunching under your standard-issue brown boots. The faster you get back to the nurse’s barracks, the faster you’re out of this wind and soaking your sore feet and cold toes.

Thorpe Abbots sprawls strangely, but you usually don’t mind. The quiet walk at the end of the long shifts in the operating room, rounds on the intensive care ward, cleaning, and inventory is your moment of solace. A moment where you can finally let the smile fall off your face, where you can grit out the curses you've bitten back all day, the crinkle in time when you are allowing the tears to well up and drip down your face silently.

There is no textbook or training to prepare you for the horrific reality. Torn flesh, burns, and the blood. The fear and agony. The pained screaming. The blind panic.

You have never felt more that you are where you need to be, yet you are so completely and utterly powerless.

A light catches your eye, reflecting on the trees around you in a ghostly flicker. Glancing over your shoulder, the light floats through the darkness, gliding towards you. The soft ding of a bicycle bell pulls you out of your reverie. Turning fully, the light casting off your torch finally illuminates the figure on the bicycle. 

“Major Egan,” You greet him, trying to keep the surprise out of your voice. He has no reason to be here. There’s nothing down this road but the building with the nurses’ quarters. It’s not the first time you’ve encountered Major Egan somewhere he has no reason to be. But you, as an army nurse and merely a first lieutenant, are not about to question him on that.

“You shouldn’t be walking here alone at night, lieutenant,” He tells you, stopping next to you. You stop, too, taking a good look at him—because why wouldn’t you—as he gets off his bike. 

A little too friendly, a little too forward. His bright, sharp blue eyes are contrasted by luscious dark curls and that devilish smile. Tall, broad-shouldered, and moving with a confident grace, he is hard to miss. And if you were to somehow overlook him in a crowd, he commands, demands, attention. There is something dangerously magnetic about him, something electric.

You best keep your distance.

“Don’t worry about me, please, Major,” You reply politely. “It’s not late, and I know the way,” 

“Are you done for today?” He asks conversationally, smiling, his eyes crinkling happily. The tips of his ears are red from the cold. In the middle of a quiet road, in the dark, in freezing temperatures, it’s an odd place for polite conversation.

“Yes, I’m heading back to my quarters,” You smile. “Long day,” You add, hoping to cut the conversation short, desperately trying to suppress the full body shiver from the cold. You notice with some envy that Major Egan seems wonderfully unbothered by the biting wind in his sheepskin jacket. You nod at him, turning back in the direction you had been heading, gingerly taking a step. Hopefully, he gets the hint.

“I could give you a ride,” 

You stop dead in your tracks, looking back at him wide-eyed. 

“I’m heading in the same direction, so you’d get there quicker,” He beams at you with that brilliant smile, patting the carrier at the back of the bike. Instinctively, you start shaking your head, trying to keep yourself from vocalizing your thoughts.

You’d be out of the wind. You’d be in the warm faster. You’d have to get close to Major Egan and hold on to him. You bet that that sheepskin jacket is nice and warm. You bet Major Egan is nice and warm.

“Isn’t that the bike you almost lost an eye for?” Your sense of self-preservation is stronger, has to be stronger, than any magnetic force or joking flirtation from Major John Egan.

“Almost?” He seems surprised you brought it up but recovers quickly. “I remember it differently — it was a bullseye, not my eye,” 

He looks at you like he’s expecting you to laugh with him, but you just blink in disbelief. That’s an awful joke. For a mere second, in the reflected light of your torch, you see his smile falter—he’s smart; he knew that was a dud. You purse your lips.

“I suppose I like my rides without stories of near-eye trauma attached,” You muse. It’s such a flimsy excuse.  

“Do you think it’s bad luck?” It’s a chillingly honest question, and all cheer has suddenly disappeared from his voice. You pause to think. It hadn’t really occurred to you that Major Egan might be a particularly superstitious man; somehow, he didn’t seem the type. But in these times, superstition creeps up on even the most staunch rationalists.

“Luck has nothing to do with it, Major,” you finally admit, eyeing him carefully. He frowns, suddenly unsure of the gravity of the conversation through his own too-candid question. “I would just hate to encourage any of that sort of behavior,” You add lightly.

“So, you would have accepted if I had a different bike?” He sounds on the precipice of hopeful, but the laughter in his voice is evident again. He changes so quickly and bounces back from everything in a mere second — it’s all a joke, after all. He’ll do you a favor and then jokingly ask for a kiss. And then maybe another. And then he’ll move on to whatever or whoever catches his eye next. 

You wrinkle your nose. No. You’re not interested, you repeat to yourself. If you were, you might as well have stayed at home and practiced your good graces at dinner parties. You joined the Army Nurse Corps because you wanted to do something, mean something.

“I’m going now,” You clench your jaw to stop your teeth from clattering. “Good night, Major Egan,”

“Suit yourself, lieutenant,” He grins, undeterred, as he watches you turn on your heel, huddling into yourself to protect yourself from the wind. Truthfully, Bucky wasn’t expecting that you would accept his offer. If anything, he wanted to see how you’d react: your replies are always calm and composed, so very proper, but you have a bad poker face. From the way you scrunch up your nose in annoyance to how the corner of your mouth sometimes threatens to pull into a smile at his jokes. And Bucky notices that your gaze lingers just slightly longer than would be polite, although nothing coming out of your mouth would corroborate that. It’s adorable. It’s intriguing. And he knows you won’t make it easy on him.

But that’s not why he keeps thinking about you. That’s not why he goes out of his way to look for you.

You suddenly took root in his thoughts only a few weeks back. It had been a bad day. Worse than Bucky had seen in a while, there had been many bad days lately. 

Being Air Exec has some perks, mostly that other people don’t really question why he’s wandering the halls of the infirmary at the dead of night. In the hallway, set up on provisional cots, medics are asleep, still fully dressed. They just collapsed on the first soft spot the moment they could. He can hardly blame them.

His footsteps echo through the dark rooms. The wounded men in the beds are fast asleep — it’s eerily quiet except for the occasional snore. 

He’s not sure why he’s here. Maybe it’s to assuage some of the guilt he’s feeling — he’s fine after all. He didn’t go up with them, after all. Maybe because he needs to see the pain with his own eyes, afraid that he’ll forget.

The doctor on duty is doing rounds, his desk empty, when Bucky slips through the swinging double doors to where the heaviest casualties are put up. The air in the room feels different—heavier. It’s not quiet—labored breathing, raspy, sometimes gurgling, groans of pain in artificial sleep. He really shouldn’t be here. 

All beds are full.

It’s been a really bad day.

It’s there that he notices you first: sitting on the floor, arms crossed and tucked up against yourself, head leaning against the wall, and legs bent at an uncomfortable angle. In the first second, he thinks someone fell out of their bed. But as Bucky gets closer, he recognizes you — the seersucker cotton dress, the matching cap now crumpled and skewed on your head, and the clearly scuffed and dirty white oxfords. You are one of the OR nurses.

He’s seen you around, just in passing. In chaos between casualties, just from the corner of his eye. Sometimes, you showed up at dances or parties, and Bucky had noticed your cute laugh from across the room, the way your entire face lit up when you smiled. And he knows he’s not the only one who has noticed the delightful sway of your hips as you walk, evident even through your dress uniform. But you made damn sure to make yourself unavailable by sticking with your girlfriends. He’s never seen you accept a drink or dance with someone.

Your mouth is slightly open as you breathe deeply, your form cast in the pale moonlight peeking through the sides of the blinds. Bucky wouldn’t let a woman sleep on the floor in normal circumstances, but in this case, waking you up would be cruel — there isn’t a bed free in the whole hospital. And even bad sleep is better than no sleep.

He moves past you carefully, mentally putting names to all the men here. Those that made it. That’s a good thing, right? They made it. Bucky doesn’t recognize the figure moaning in pain louder and louder, hands desperately grasping at the neatly tucked-in covers —  his entire head is covered with a thick layer of white bandages, not even leaving a slit for his eyes, just a small opening for his mouth. He hesitates before his curiosity takes over and moves by the side of the bed to look closer. It’s a good thing, right?

He should do something to help him.

Bucky is so lost in thought that he doesn’t notice you brushing past him. He almost jumps out of his skin when your torch suddenly clicks on at the foot of the bed. You are bleary-eyed, blinking rapidly as your eyes fly over the patient chart. 

“He is due for a new round of pain medication,” You state softly, voice still thick with sleep, before looking up at Bucky. “Major,” is all you say in acknowledgment of him.

“Nurse—lieutenant,” He mumbles in reply, increasingly on edge from the patient’s distress. “What are you—” Before he can start running his mouth in confused ramble, you trust the torch at him.

“Hold this, please, Major,” Your voice is barely above a whisper, yet it cuts through the noises easily in its steadiness and calmness. The small torch is now in his hand, your fingers brushing over his palm unintentionally as you move through the dark. It’s like a small spark burned the spot where your fingertip touches his skin. “Up, please,”

Bucky complies, shining the light from a high angle as you prepare a syringe. You look exhausted, but nothing in your movement betrays that. Clinical, precise, and so calm. He watches you speak softly to your patient, your free hand wrapped loosely around his wrist, a syringe poised in the other. But the patient is struggling harder, too panicked, and in too much pain. 

It happens in a split second.

The patient sits up so quickly that Bucky almost stumbles back in surprise. The patient now has an iron grip on your lower arm, white knuckles, moving in a blind frenzy, pulling you clean off your feet, half over the bed. You yelp in as much surprise as in pain as your knee collides with the metal bed frame. Your face is contorted in pain as you struggle back, trying to regain your footing. 

“It’s okay, I’m here to help you,” You keep repeating patiently. Never let them know you are scared: they can’t calm down if you are not in control.

Your voice doesn’t waver one bit. Bucky clenches the small torch between his teeth, trying to free your arm from the patient’s grip. 

“N- no” You breathe, clearly in pain now. “Please, Major, just help me to hold him still,” 

You are still holding the syringe, poised to strike. Grabbing the patient by the shoulder and forcing him back against the pillow. In the struggle, the torch falls from his mouth. It clatters on the tile floor and rolls away. He is so focused on his task that it’s almost by surprise when the struggle ends within a few seconds, and the patient drifts off again. He never saw you give the injection.

You both stand there, breathing heavily. Bucky bends down to retrieve the torch from the floor. It’s still shining, although it flickers uncertainly with every move. When he straightens back up, he catches you looking at your arm, the brown sleeve of your vest rolled up messily. When you realize he’s looking at you, you pull the sleeve back down and busy yourself tucking the patient back in. But Bucky has seen the angry red fingerprints imprinted on your forearm.

“Thank you, Major Egan,” Not a quiver in your tone, although your breathing has barely slowed down. “It’s probably best you go now,” 

“Are you alright?” He cannot help but ask, gaze traveling to your arm. He can’t help but notice you must have been issued a vest a size up, as the sleeves are a bit too long on you. It’s adorable.

“Please don’t worry about me,” You reply, smiling, but it’s clearly a deflection. The corners of your mouth are quirked up, but your eyes just spell tired. “You should try to get some rest, Major. The sun will be up soon,”

There is a certain sense of irony in you telling him that. At least he has a bed to go to, you think wryly. You start walking towards the ward exit, signaling he should follow you. 

“Will you be okay here by yourself, lieutenant?” It’s not his place to worry about you, but you are just… you. And these men are in pain, scared, and -

“The doctor will be back from his rounds soon,” Your soft voice pulls Bucky from his thoughts. You stand at the door, holding it open for him. If he hadn’t just seen that chaos happen, he would have never guessed by your demeanor anything happened.  As he passes you, you salute him. He salutes you back, gazing over to you. The tips of your fingers are shaking. 

The thought is sudden and overwhelming: he wants to lace his fingers through yours, pull you against him, and hold you until you stop shaking.

“Goodnight, Major,” You whisper with a pointed look. You want him out of here so you can check on your throbbing knee and painful arm away from his prying eyes.

“Goodnight, lieutenant,” He replies, tearing his eyes away from you.

***

In early spring, it seems like the rain never stops, from semi-permanent drizzle to raindrops rhythmically ticking against the window pane to the torrential downpour you find yourself in now. The drab-colored trench coat is putting up a valiant fight to keep you dry.

You’re holding your purse over your head but to no avail. The cold trickle of water from your sodden hair travels down your spine. You’re trailing behind your friends, who are making good time through the storm. Water sloshes in your left boot, making it heavy, the drenched woolen sock rubbing painfully against your foot. 

Then you hear it. The all too-happy ding of a bicycle bell. 

You try to walk faster, gritting your teeth, but Major Egan has caught up with you in just seconds. You don’t stop to greet him, just glancing over at him with narrowed eyes. Gracefully, he jumps off the bike, matching your pace by foot easily. His dark curls are plastered to his forehead, his cap sagging under the weight of the water it must have absorbed. He shouldn’t look this good, sopping wet, especially when you feel so wretched.

“Lieutenant, I could get you where you need to be a whole lot quicker,” he calls out.

“No, thank you, Major,” Your tone is polite, but you keep walking, falling behind further and further from your friends as your left boot squelches with every step. You know he noticed. 

“You’re really not going to take me up on the offer? Even in this downpour?” 

“Most drops miss,” You can’t keep the scowl off your face as you march on. 

“You are so unbelievably stubborn,” He laughs. You don’t think you’re stubborn; you just don’t like feeling like your hand is being forced. 

“I don’t need you to save me, Major.” You tell him evenly, finally stopping and turning to him. You know your friends noticed you stopping but probably figured they were doing you a favor and kept going. 

Bucky regards you carefully — you look miserable. The curl has long been rained out of your hair; rivulets of water running down your face, dripping on the collar of your trench coat. The steep downturn of the corners of your mouth pretty much just seals the deal. But despite all the evidence, you would never admit you’re anything but fine. 

“Save you?” He sounds incredulous. Like the thought never even crossed his mind. 

You bite your lip — you might have said too much. But you are afraid that he might ask you for something if you owe Major Egan a favor. He will ask you for something. And you won’t be strong enough to tell him no maybe because you want him to ask. Who wouldn’t?

You’ve seen him look at you from across the room before, and when you scrape together the courage to meet his gaze, it’s like electricity. Short, intense, and almost painful. And then he looks away, his attention turning so fleetingly. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

“Forget it,” You mumble, clearly embarrassed. Closing your eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath, you wish nothing about this moment was happening right now. When you peek through your lashes at Major Egan, you note he looks concerned.

“For what it’s worth,” He clears his throat, not a trace of humor in his voice. “I never considered you to require saving, lieutenant.” 

You keep looking at him sharply, finally shaking your head. “You have a funny way of showing it.” 

There is something deeply absurd about the whole conversation. Just tell him no. Just bid him goodnight and leave. Why are you even entertaining him with your feelings on this? And it’s clearly entertainment to him.

“I’m going to my quarters now, Major,” You state, feeling the need to be polite despite your increasingly impolite feelings about the situation. “And you’re going in the wrong direction,” You add pointedly as you start walking again. It feels like you have an entire puddle in your boot now.

“So what would you prefer, lieutenant? A more classic approach?” That devastatingly handsome grin is back on his face again as he walks beside you. How is that what he took from your last statement? Your shoulders sag when you feel the butterflies in your stomach. “At the next dance, I buy you a drink and sweep you off your feet on the dance floor?” 

“I might be more agreeable when it’s not freezing or raining,” You sigh like it’s paining you to admit it. Maybe he’s imagining it, but Bucky likes to think he saw the shadow of a smile pass over your face as you say it, even though your voice is painfully neutral. 

“Is that a yes?” Again, that hopeful edge. 

“No,” You reply curtly, but you feel bad the moment you say it because you see his smile fall — he’s staring at you somewhere between confusion and growing frustration. It’s making you feel bad. A horrible little selfish part of you wants him to only smile at you. Major Egan could light up a room with that smile — he regularly does. The selfish little monster in you wants to be the reason that he smiles like that. 

“Ask me again at the dance, Major,” You amend carefully.

The way his face breaks out in that broad, beaming smile makes you weak at the knees. 

***

Bucky is on pins and needles tonight. Even Buck, usually so even-tempered, is getting irritated with him. Drumming his fingers on the bar, tapping his foot not to the beat of the music but to blow off some of the anxious energy. People are flittering in and out of the hall, but there is no sign of you yet. He’s going through his whiskey too quickly, and it’s doing very little to calm his anticipation.

After an hour of only half-listening to the conversation going on around him, constantly glancing at his watch, he finally sees the pack of nurses come in. Bucky’s heart drops a little because you aren’t with the group. You’re always with that group. Knocking back the rest of his drink, he resolutely makes his way to the table now occupied by five gossiping nurses. All eyes are on him as he approaches.

“Good evening, ladies,” He smiles, eyes searching the table. All chairs are occupied — clearly, your friends aren’t saving you a seat. A chorus of good evenings and giggles comes in reply.

“How can we help you, Major Egan?” A blonde nurse asks, peering up through her lashes.

“I’m actually looking for my favorite nurse,” He replies easily, holding his smile despite feeling mildly annoyed. When he mentiones your name, another chorus of giggles. 

“I thought I was your favorite nurse,” One of the girls pipes up. The girls burst out laughing.

“She’s on the night shift,” An earnest, young-looking nurse cuts in, pushing up her glasses. Bucky doesn’t really recognize her — she must be quite new. “I asked to switch shifts because I haven’t been to a dance here before.”

“You should have found someone from the afternoon shift,” the blonde nurse sighs in a bored tone. “The poor girl is putting in a double shift now,”

“No one else would switch with me,” The bespectacled nurse defends herself with a small voice.

Bucky should be annoyed. Did you scheme this out on purpose? You run so hot and cold between your lingering looks and thinly veiled barbs. But then again. Of course, you would switch shifts with the new girl out of kindness. You slept on the floor to stay close to those most needed care. Doc sang your praises in the officer’s mess regularly for staying late to finish inventory, covering in emergencies, and keeping the OR running smoothly. Kindly caring for everyone around you.

He should be annoyed. But instead, he feels jealous. It’s a horrible feeling. But you cared more about the new girl than him? Is it really so bad that he wants your kind attention aimed at him? That he wants to be your choice? You wouldn’t even give him a shot. 

It just won’t do. But now, at least, he knows where to find you.

At the end of the dark hall, a faint light. A lone lamp on a lone desk, with a lone nurse sitting at it. You hear him coming, of course. Your bright eyes look straight at him as he emerges from the darkness. You are already getting up out of your chair, ready to greet him, notes and medical textbook forgotten on the desk.

“Good evening, Major Egan,” you greet him, your voice soft. Your gentle tone carries sweetly through the quiet hall. You didn’t expect him to come find you. It feels far too serious, far too earnest. You haven’t seen or spoken to Major Egan for over a week now, and for your own sake, you decide that he hadn’t been serious—that you hadn’t been serious. It was just banter.

Truthfully, you were slightly relieved the new girl asked you to switch shifts. But as you sat at the duty desk by yourself, blankly staring at the pages of your medical textbook, your stomach twisted painfully with regret. 

“Good evening, lieutenant -” you cut him off with a sharp shush, tapping your index finger against your lips. You step a bit closer to him, voice a sweet whisper. “Please keep it down,” 

A beat of silence as you’re both clearly uncomfortable in the strange situation you have suddenly found yourself in.

“How can I help you, Major?” You whisper politely as your eyes nervously, guiltily, dart around the room—anywhere but him. He looks sharp in his dress uniform. He smells nice. He clearly made an effort. And you’re standing here in your day-old hospital uniform. Self-consciously, you try to straighten the standard-issue white and brown stripe wrap-around dress. 

“I came looking for my favorite nurse,” Bucky replies sincerely, eyes boring into yours. 

“Then you must not be looking for me,” The words tumble out before you can stop yourself. Bucky nearly bursts out laughing at the pained look that crosses your face as you clamp your mouth shut. 

“I was waiting for you to show up at the dance,” He says with that same heavy sincerity. His stance is casual, hands in pockets and shoulders relaxed. But the way he fidgets — tapping and shuffling his foot — as he waits for you to reply hints that he is not nearly as calm as he’d like to appear.

“I had to stay,” You reply, still avoiding his gaze. It’s a half-truth. You could have said no. But the new girl seemed to want to go to the dance more badly than you did. It felt unfair. And you had convinced yourself quite thoroughly that Major Egan wouldn’t care or notice anyway.

Another silence falls. Neither quite sure where to go from here.

“How are the boys doing?” Bucky asks conversationally, reaching out to the large doors leading into the intensive care unit. On a whim, you grab his hand before he touches the handle, your fingers gently wrapping over the top of his large hand. He stills, and for a moment, you think he’ll shake your hand off his. But instead, he waits in acceptance.

“It won’t help you,” You whisper. It took you a while to figure out why Major Egan was in the hospital that night. When people spoke of him, they spoke of how much he cared for his men — a heavy burden to bear.

“Help me?” His voice is suddenly loud. He is offended at the notion that he’s doing it for himself and offended that you called him out like that. He opens his mouth again to argue with you.

Startled by the volume, your brain misfires fully, and instead of replying, your free hand reaches out to his face, your index finger landing on his soft lips to silence him. He stares at you wide-eyed. You are sure you look as shocked as he does. You try to gather your thoughts quickly.

“I - I understand,” You implore him in an urgent whisper, finally looking at him. Bucky sees his own sorrow reflected in your eyes. 

Sometimes, you can only wait. There is no next round of medicine; there is no operation that will help. Waiting for the body to do its work can be frustrating and maddeningly slow.

“But there is nothing you can do now, so going in won’t help you or them,” You swallow. Why is your finger still on his lips, and why is he letting you do that? “They need to rest. You need to rest.”

His fingers lace through yours as he steps closer. It’s inappropriate how close he is standing to you. It’s inappropriate how the tips of your fingers caress the seam of his lips. It’s inappropriate how your hand has latched onto his, his thumb drawing lazy circles on the pulse point of your wrist.

“I don’t need rest.” His voice is soft and close. The intimacy of his lips moving against your fingers is intense, each breath setting your nerve endings on fire. He leans into your touch, trailing from the corner of his mouth to his jaw. Finally, you look at him.

“Then what do you need?” Your question comes automatically. Always looking for how to help. Always so kind. He could melt into your soft touch, warm voice, and how you look at him so sweetly.

“I need to know when you’re done here so I can sweep you off your feet,” His eyes meet yours, keenly following your every move. 

You want to take a step back and break the increasingly feverish connection, away from his oddly earnest confession, but Bucky pulls you closer with a small tug on your hand. Your head is swimming; your heart is hammering in your chest. You shouldn’t entertain any of this, but it feels like your heart is pouring out of your mouth.

“My shift ends at 0500,” 

Bucky grins at you—not in a teasing way, but with that infectious broad smile—the one you cannot help but smile back. It gives you butterflies. You’re smiling at him now, beautifully, genuinely. It feels like a victory to Bucky.

“I’ll keep the party going if you promise me the last dance.” His voice is low and inviting; he is reeling you in further with every word.

“Don’t torture everyone on my account, please,” You feebly try to inject some levity into the situation. You know yourself well enough: you are no match for John Egan and his attentions. From sparks across the room, now it’s like you’ve touched the live wire, and the current has a hold on you. That’s why you always avoided him so.  

“Torture? Darling, it’s a party,” He needles you gently, eyes glinting merrily. “Only you would equate that to torture.” 

“Major -,” “Bucky,” He interjects. You blink at him, biting your lip. 

“Bucky, please,” The moment you utter his name, so beguilingly, so breathlessly, he presses your palm against his face fully, his hand covering yours. He needs you closer. The golden buttons of his jacket brush against the front of your dress. His lips press against the soft flesh of your hand as he studies your reaction. The hitch in your breath is embarrassingly loud to your ears. 

“Please, what?” 

“Don’t torment me like this,” It sounds even more pathetic when you say it out loud. And exactly as you’d expect, the admission of your weakness, the slightest chink in your armor, is an in for him. 

“How do I torment you, exactly?” His voice is so warm, so encouraging. 

“You take far too much pleasure in making fun of me, for one,” You try to play it off in a last-ditch attempt. But under his heated gaze, his breath brushing on the sensitive skin of your wrist, you falter. You frown before you utter in a small voice: “It’s not nice how you toy with me, Bucky, because it’s obvious that… that it’s just a joke to you, and your idea of a joke could get me dismissed, and sent home,”

You look down at your shoes, embarrassed. You want to pull away, but Bucky is not allowing you an inch of slack.

“It’s not a joke to me.” He sounds surprised. You look up at him, unable to keep the skepticism off your face. “It wasn’t a joke from that night I saw how calmly you handled that panicked patient, the moment you saluted me with those shaky fingers, and then every time you denied my help, you stubborn, stubborn girl,” His face is so close to yours now; a finger tracing down the side of your neck, down, just along the collar of your dress, leaving goosebumps in its wake. The way your hand rests on his cheek, you could pull him even closer if you wanted to. “I’ve wanted to grab hold of you, wrap you around me-”

Footsteps. You pull back from Bucky with a jerky movement, who mercifully releases you immediately, stumbling back two steps, almost hitting the desk with your legs. It’s strangely cold suddenly without his hands wrapped around yours, without him so close you could feel the warmth radiating off his body. Blood is rushing in your ears. Bucky looks too collected, but to your relief, you spy a faint blush creeping up his neck. 

So it wasn’t just you.

Hands folded, you take another furtive step back behind the desk, making sure there’s a respectable distance between you as the doctor on duty turns the corner. Bucky and the doctor start talking in low voices, but you are not listening. In your mind, you keep returning to his words, trying to put the puzzle pieces together. 

That night on the ward. That was the first time you spoke and saw each other in more than passing. That’s when Bucky suddenly formed this habit of popping in places he had no business of being. Places you happened to frequent. You really hadn’t been vain enough to consider that the common denominator in those situations was you. It had to be a coincidence that he had just turned into a joke. 

“Nurse,” The doctor turns to you, handing you his clipboard. You nearly jump out of your skin, being so lost in thought. “Please update the log,”

“Yes, doctor,” You nod, trying not to look as flustered as you feel. The men start leaving, still talking. 

“Good night, lieutenant,” Bucky turns to you, unable to keep the cocky smile off his face. Before he turns, he winks at you. It makes your knees so weak you nearly collapse back into your chair. Covering your face with your hands, you try to focus, but the smile won’t come off your face.

Seven more hours until your shift ends.

***

It’s a misty summer morning, dew covering every inch. The sun is just breaking through the clouds, and it’s promising to be a beautiful day.

When you leave the infirmary, you blink against the early morning sun. It’s still so early that few people are around. You hesitate. Surely, the party is not still going on. You wouldn’t put it past Bucky to actually do it. Rubbing your eyes and yawning, you’re unsure if you could even stay on your feet long enough for a dance.  

Luckily, you don’t have to make a choice. 

The sound of the bicycle bell makes you smile now. Bucky’s looking remarkably fresh and well-rested. The party clearly didn’t go that far into the night. He dressed for duty, his signature sheepskin jacket hanging open.

“Are you going my way, darling?” 

You purse your lips because you’re fighting to keep the smile off your tired face. You don’t stand a chance. You dart over to him like you are pulled by a magnetic force, the live current arching between you.

Sliding onto the back of the bike, you grab handfuls of the thick sheepskin to steady yourself, trying to find your equilibrium. Bucky’s large, warm hands encircle your wrists and easily pull your hands off his jacket. Instead, he gently nudges you forward by your arms, tucking them under the side of his jacket, wrapping your arms around his waist. The side of your face is resting against his back. You can feel his heartbeat under your palm, resting just under his sternum; you move along with his every breath.

“Ready?” Bucky peers over his shoulder. 

“Hm–mh,” You hum in reply, face buried in the folds of Bucky’s jacket. “Drop me off before the last turn?” You mumble, gazing up at him pleadingly. “Matron will be awake and on the prowl by now,”

“Don’t worry, darling,” His free hand wraps over yours, pressing a kiss on your knuckles. “I’m not going to get you into any trouble,”

“I’m holding you to that,” You yawn, wrapping yourself around him tighter. You’re going to make the most of this moment — the quiet morning, the soft sheepskin, the smell of Bucky’s aftershave. 

You drift in and out of sleep, even though the trip by bike is tortuously short. After almost twenty hours on shift, you should be allowed this comfort. Whining in protest as Bucky starts to unlatch your arms from him, you feel his chuckle as much as you hear it. 

You slide off the back of the bike, ignoring where the metal was jabbing into your backside on the bumpy road, and rub your eyes, trying to get rid of the haze in your vision. A small yelp escapes you as Bucky tugs you against him by the tie at the waist of your wraparound seersucker dress. The bike lays forgotten in the grass by the side of the road. All the tension and anticipation from last night are suddenly back — you feel wide awake again.

Bucky’s fingers are resting lightly against your waist like he is testing the waters, slowly, gently guiding you closer to him until you are inches away from him. Automatically, your hands sneak back up his jacket, running up his sides to the front of his chest. He is so warm against the crisp morning air. 

“Are you going to ask me for a kiss now?” It comes out almost naively as you look up at him. God, you hope he says yes.

“I promised not to get you into trouble,” He teases gently, grinning, inclining his face closer anyway, his lips just ghosting over the corner of your mouth. He is rewarded with a shuddering sigh from you — his grip on your waist tightens, prompting you to close the remaining distance between you. 

“This, of course, is perfectly innocent,” Only you could be looking at him with those big eyes, full of want, your curious fingers roaming over his chest, and still speak so earnestly. Bucky buries his face in the crook of your neck, shaking from laughter. You wrap yourself around him, head buzzing. It’s like you’re short-circuiting, sparks flying with every move, every breath. 

Bucky nips at the sensitive flesh of your neck, hoping to elicit more of those small sounds from you. If it weren’t for the quiet morning, remnants of mist dissolving in the first light, he would have missed the softest moan of his name that falls from your lips. He could do this all day. Just explore every move of your body against his, every way you can say his name, every touch that brings you closer to him. You move in effortless synchronicity with him, purely on instinct. 

“Then it’s trouble you want, darling?” Bucky murmurs, pressing kisses along your jaw.

“It’s only trouble if we get caught,” You reply breathlessly. 

His finger is under your chin, tilting your face up to him, and finally, Bucky’s lips find yours. For a second, it’s just that: his lips pressed softly, almost chastely, against yours. You push yourself up on your tiptoes to get more leverage, wrapping your arm around his neck. Your other hand stays pressed against his chest, fisting his shirt, feeling how his heartbeat speeds up as you open your mouth for him with a sigh. Bucky doesn’t hesitate to deepen the kiss, cupping your face. His other hand is roaming boldly over your back, applying light pressure on your spine so you arch into him, skimming just over the curve of your behind, playfully tugging at the ribbon of your wraparound dress. He knows exactly what he is doing and how to get exactly what he wants from you, and you’re more than eager to please.

Your mouth starts to tentatively explore the column of his neck as he whispers your name longingly, encouraging your little adventure. When your lips touch a particularly sensitive spot right under his ear, Bucky hisses — you can feel his muscles clench. It’s exhilarating; he feels the sparks as much as you do. Bucky doesn’t allow you to bask in your small victory too long, greedily capturing your mouth with his again, wrapping you around him, tucking you against him. His soft touch turns feverish, grasping at your hip. You match in kind, nails grazing the nape of his neck, just along his hairline — anything to keep the tension, the current arching.

You can feel the sunshine on your skin and see it through closed eyes. Breathlessly, you pull away just a fraction — Bucky’s lips are still ghosting over yours. 

“What’s wrong, darling?” He asks so softly you’re unsure if you heard or felt the words against your lips.

“I have to go,” You mumble as you move to stand feet flat on the ground again. It’s like waking up from a dream. Time is getting away from you. You’re not ready to pull away from Bucky yet, wanting to stretch the moment out. You gently fix his collar, running your hands over his front once more, as much in an attempt to straighten out the wrinkles you left on his shirt as to feel him move under your palm again. When he steps away from you, you release a shuddering breath. You feel like you’ve just been hit by lighting. 

“I’ll come find you,” He winks at you, grinning. Bucky presses a kiss to your forehead, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture feels intimate, more personal, than you could have imagined.

It was everything you feared happening when you said yes to John Egan. It was everything you dreamed it to be. As you watch him leave, you know that you’ll have a damn hard time giving that up. 

“I’ll be waiting.” 

note: this was literally supposed to be a quick 2k words fun meet cute kind of thing, just a quick adventure Morty, but oh god I'm in too deep. forgive me for this detour from Of All The Stars in The Sky, but it was necessary, you understand.

[mila-beedoodling]

NGGGGH sad traumatized catboy

This is from drowning (in plain sight) by @buggachat and I'm dying to know what happens next and I don't know if I'll be able to handle it xD

[fanaticsnail]

It's been a while

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 2,900+

Synopsis: Trafalgar Law has been missing his favorite courier, so at the encouragement of his first mate, he is prompted to do something about it.

Themes: Trafalgar Law x Box "Cottontail" Mila, fluff, long distance relationships, fluff, hurt / comfort, pining, longing from afar, den-den mushi, Law is tired, Law is missing his special person.

Notes: This is my half of the trade organized through the OC Discord Server for @bloglop and her beautiful OC, Mila. She gave me such a cute art piece for my Tobiuo x Heat 'Teat' ship, and I love it. I hope you like my half for your beautiful Mila! Divider by @/firefly-graphics.

Warmth swelled within the cool heart of the dark-haired captain, his chest ignited beneath the blaze of anticipated relief. Honey eyes briefly widening, they relax as his smile illuminated his cheeks with an emotion Trafalgar Law had not allowed himself to experience in so long. He knew it; he saw it every day of his life growing up in Flevance. His parents had it when their eyes met in the early hours of the day, he saw it in his sister’s eyes when she looked at her favorite desserts. 

Love.

Trafalgar Law was in love. 

Rolling on her heels to the balls of her feet, the twitching anxiousness was demonstrated within the grip of parchment clutched against her chest. Another delivery for the Tang: likely the recipe exchange Penguin set up between Sanji and Killer at the last meeting with Strawhat crew and the Victoria Punk.

“Mila,” Law sighed, his voice feeling foggy at the edges, echoing within the halls of the Polar Tang. He shook his head, shrugging off the tension and apprehension from his mind as he picked up speed. 

Trying not to seem overeager in seeing his lover so close to him fled his thoughts, he physically couldn’t contain it any longer. He needed Mila in his arms, embraced fully against his chest and lifted up into his arms. 

He wanted her, needed her, craved her in a way that felt like a part of him was missing: a part only she could fill with her presence. That little laugh, that soft stutter when she’s trying to hold her enthusiasm back, the way her ears would extend and tail would protrude when she was nervous, the buzz of life that illuminated and vibrated with excitable static. He craved to have all of that within his arms, lips touching so intimately close: sharing breaths and heartbeats as he entwined himself against her in an encumbering embrace. 

His feet carried him closer, further and faster than he could ever dream of. Ignoring the wind-smudged faces of his crew, Law simply sprung hurriedly towards Mila like an iron ball from a cannon barrel. 

Turning slowly towards her, the orange-hue of her widened orbs lit up and rose with her smile behind it. Expending her arms towards him, Law couldn't help but spring to close the distance between them. Hoisting her into the air, and with a large twirl to expel all the parchment from her tanned satchel. The pages seemed to float beside them as if meeting with water, held in stasis beside them while Law met his eyes against hers. 

Inked hands pressed at the back of her neck, toying with the finer hair growing at the base of her scalp, he drew her into his face. Lips finally colliding, he seared into her all emotion he craved to give her through his intense kiss. Expecting the common softness to her lips, his brows furrowed where all he could feel was a coarse scratch on his skin. Parting his mouth and deepening his kiss, her lips tasted of ink blotches and black coffee stains. He shook it from his thoughts, holding on tighter and refusing to be pried from her, her embrace felt different. 

“Law?” Mila’s voice ricocheted within his mind: sounding muffled as if forced to speak with a muzzle over her lips. Shaking his head, he gripped her tighter and more intently. Hands roaming and wandering, her skin felt cool to the touch and almost like steel. 

“Law?” her voice sounded several tones too deep, prompting Law to almost break away from her lips pressed against his and look up into her eyes. But he couldn’t, he was too overwhelmed by the fact she was hare, and she was finally back, to care about anything else. 

Mila’s hand gently reached up and grasped his shoulder, pinching and rolling the flesh between her perched digits. Shaking him from her, her strength managed to pull him away from her and force his eyes to fall on hers. 

“Mila?”

All he could see in lieu of his lover was a sheet of pale paper with stains of ink and black coffee. 

He had fallen asleep at his desk once again. After too many sleepless nights of peering over the edge of the Polar Tang, hoping the figure beyond the horizon was a small blotch of pink blur, he finally fell prone to the melody of sleep. Thin, paper pages stuck to his face as he jolted upright, looking immediately to the large, white fur that clutched onto his shoulders. 

“Just me, Captain,” Bepo sighed softly, a small amount of sorrow caged at the corner of his tone, “I'm sorry I'm not Mila. It's-... It's been a while, hasn't it, sir?” The Polar bear mink gently reached for the page affixed to Law's face, peeling it from his skin and placing it back down in a neat pile in front of him. Several words from the parchment transported onto his skin, words in reverse staining his pores by marking his face with its blotches. 

“It's… it's been a while, yeah,” he chuckled dryly, drawing his thumb and index finger up to pinch his eyes in a bid to pry the sleep from them, “M’sorry, Bepo. How long was I-?”

“-You need to call her, sir,” the first-mate spoke over his Captain. Bepo’s dark eyes seemed to command him, prompting Law to feel taken aback by the notion. He was not used to the large bear giving him commands, and making a call to his lover seemed an odd thing for him to get up in arms about. 

Law sighed, smearing his hand down his face before taking his chin in his hands. Although Law seemed to raise a smile to his lips, there was no real joy in his expression. He was truly lost, a man without direction and plagued with more sleep deprivation than he was truly able to withstand. 

“Look, Bepo,” Law chuckled, drawing his hand down to the desk in front of him, “I don't even know where she is right now. She could be legions away-.”

“-She’s on Komugi Island, delivering the outcome of a contract for intention for betrothal,” Bepo stated in a matter of fact way, fishing up the slumbering transponder snail and placing it on Law’s desk, “She’s staying at an accommodation close to the Charlotte’s. Call her. Please call her, sir.”

Law groaned at the pushiness of his first mate, rolling his eyes and reaching for the transponder. Tapping the shell awake, he offered it a small piece of lettuce he kept on his desk for it in payment for being awakened so abruptly. Looking up at Bepo, he shook his head with his exhaustion hanging on the small puffs of his elevated eye-bags. 

“There a number I need to dial?” Law asked Bepo, who hastily spat the digits immediately. With a small grunt in gratitude with a hidden and flustered smile, Law waved Bepo away from the room and excused himself to the company of himself and the snail. 

Gently rolling onto her back, Mila toyed anxiously with the ends of her blush-colored hair. The accommodation on Komugi Island made her feel more dwarfed than ever, and she was relatively tall. The land of giants, with a tyrant overlord that could potentially lose their temper with the outcome of Mila’s delivery, was otherwise quite welcoming. The minister of flour ensured her safety, the room was comfortable, and the food was incredibly sweet and playful. 

The one thing that she felt truly absent from this experience was her friend and lover, the captain of the Heart Pirates. She wanted to be with him a little more often lately, but she wasn't quite sure why. There was something in the way her heart sang to him in the quiet hours.

Her body became rigid as she rolled over to her side to move within a curled position beneath the blankets. She drew up the linen material in a bid to press more weight into her. The warmth provided beneath the blankets was comforting, but it wasn't what she truly wanted. 

She wanted Law. 

Her job had her darting her lanky legs around all of the blues and beyond: hopping between ports within the grand line, and sprinting as a courier to deliver packages in a timely manner. She had formed connections, made bonds, curated an eclectic assortment of clients, and was a trusted ally to all those who depended on her services. She was good at her job, and her reputation by word of mouth shepherded her everywhere. 

But it didn't manage to take her to the Polar Tang for some time. She missed it. The yellow submarine piloted by her beloved, hat-wearing, broody captain that she hoped cherished her as much as she did him. She loved him, and wanted to stay with him and hold him within his quarters and his office until she was certain he would eventually become sick of her. 

It had been a while since Mila had experienced love in her heart, and when she met and learned about Law, it hit her like the reputable ‘gum-gum-pistol’ from their Straw-Hat ally. Love hit her so hard, she almost felt like her legs would buckle beneath its weight every time she saw him. 

But, unfortunately for the both of them, she still had a job to do. She hoped she would come across someone who was in need of a courier to deliver a package to the Tang, but for now, she lay quietly buzzing with energy beneath the weight of the heavy duvet. 

The Zoan-Fruit user always had trouble sleeping when facing a trial like this. A client may be disgruntled by a letter, and often want to keep her around to formulate an appropriate response to send back. Mila would get stuck in the crossfires often, and remind them softly: ‘I am just the courier, but I will ensure to relay your objectives when I deliver your response.’ She was nothing if not professional, and professional, she was. 

Struggling to find rest, Mila scrunched her eyes shut and focussed on the sounds of her environment. Sizzling plates from the restaurant outside, the chirp of sweet bug song, the thumping of her anxious blood flooding her face, the soft purr of her carrier snail ringing on her desk-.

-Mila jolted upright, throwing the duvet off her body with the expectation that her client was calling her into the main keep to relay her response to the outcome of the betrothal. Putting on her best ‘professional’ voice, Mila took a deep breath as her lips curled around her words. Just as she tasted those first syllables on her tongue, she halted at the voice on the other end. 

“Cottontail? You there?” 

She froze. Her skin almost buzzed with the haste her shock managed to sizzle beneath her flesh. Each follicle stood like static ignited the ends of her pink tufts as her eyes flew wide. Lip quivering, hastily split her lips up into a radiant and broad grin. 

“Law?” She almost squeaked, managing to compose herself enough to answer tastefully, “I’m here. I was just about to turn in for the night.” She heard Law gently huff out a curse alongside a subtle whisper of ‘time difference, I'm an idiot,’ which rose a flutter in her chest. 

Silence fled from the Den-Den, an awkwardness once again present between the two of them. Neither spoke, nor made a single sound to alert the other was present. The only knowledge that another person was on the end of the transceiver was the fact that it was their snails we're awake. 

As Mila plopped down on her bed once more, the snail tucked against her pillow and laying comfortably on the heavy linen, Law had managed to sneak into his personal quarters from his office, gently doing the same. 

Law’s personal Den-Den buzzed gently as he lay his head down on the pale cerulean silks of his firm pillow. Considering his earlier doze, he was still feeling groggy and lethargic while his head felt heavier than what his neck could truly carry. Rolling onto his side, he blinked his heavy eyelids and spoke softly into it. 

“What are…? What are you up to right now?” Law asked barely with a breath, his inhale and exhale softening out at the corners. He could almost feel Mila’s smile through the snail, picturing her face as his eyelids finally grew too heavy to remain open. 

“I'm in bed, talking with you,” Mila offered gently in return, lulling him into a soft tranquility with her voice. Law smiled, nuzzling against the bedsheets and drawing up his legs to become more comfortable. He hummed a small chuckle in return with a light flush rising in his dark cheeks. 

“You're right here with me, are you?” Law’s question ignited Mila’s cheeks with that rosy tint he loved to see with her fluster. 

“I'm right there,” she confessed with a little shrug in her shoulders, neatly tucking herself within her blankets and nestling them around herself. Gently rising her question in her chest, she felt the small amount of fluttering anxiety swelling her heart, truly wanting him to answer honestly and truthfully. “Are you…? Are you here with me too?” 

Not even a beat of a butterfly's wing passed between them as Law graced her with his answer. 

“I'm there. I'm right there beside you, and,” Law halted his words, taking his time to stretch his lips through a yawn of exhaustion, “I'm gonna be there with you until the morning. Are you tired?” 

“I'm not tired at all, are you?” Mila asked in response, trying to choke down the emotion at the ease his response gave to her. Through this trip, this trial of delivering such an important contract with the Charlotte's and the response they got from the recipient, it truly weighed on her. The exhaustion that came from it, the sorrow she felt at the lack of deliveries with the Tang, the way she truly wanted nothing more to be curled up in Law's quarters and listening to him talk about the latest addition to his coin collection - everything felt so raw at this moment. 

At such an innocent and easy question, and hers in return, she felt the well of emotions rise up in her chest and swell behind the closed dam of her teeth. 

Almost in a sense only captain's and doctors seemed to comprehend, and in the comfort Law truly wanted to receive from his beautiful courier, he whispered against the microphoned end of the snail. 

“Mila, I need you to talk,” he confessed to her, feeling the weight of his own release, “I need to hear your voice, I need to hear about your day, and I need to-...” He choked on his admission, feeling heavy and vulnerable as he laid in his bed, “...I haven't been able to sleep properly. I need to sleep, and you… You always seem to be able to help me switch off. Can you do that for me? I promise it won't take long-.”

“-I’ll do it, Captain,” she cut him off, her eagerness causing Law to chuckle in a low tone. “I'll talk your ear off, and I won't stop even if you beg me to.” Mila tucked herself completely in, laying on her back, and thinking where in her journey she should start her tale.

Recounting the initial retrieval of the response from the recipient of the Charlotte family’s proposal, she began spurting a relay of every event that transpired from there. Traveling the seas, running as fast as her legs could take her, meeting Charlotte Linlin and her sons: Oven, Cracker, and Katakuri, she spoke on it all. 

Every syllable the pink-haired Zoan-Fruit user was a sweet melody to the exhausted captain. Mila would ask questions to gauge where he was in his exhaustion, and Law would go from asking a question in return, to a one-worded answer, to a small grunt or moan in response. 

As Mila spoke on, the slow blinks from Law’s eyes opening a crack would reveal his Den-Den shell in one moment, before dissipating to see Mila in all her cottontail glory beside him in the next. She was there, truly there, and he felt every second of it. The scent of her perfume, the warmth of her skin, the softness of her hair, the smile on her lips: she was right there as she spoke within his mind’s eye.

Smiling, his chest rose and fell with each passing moment Mila would speak to him. He was prompted to set internal reminders to order some flour and sweets from Komugi island for the crew, utilizing Mila's service and giving her a reason to be with him. His rationale dictated it would be good for morale, and Penguin would appreciate the fresh produce.

Whereas all Law wanted was Mila.  As he drempt, all he pictured was the waves of lengthy pink hair from the back of Mila, holding her close in his dreams as she spoke. 

The next morning, he woke to hearing the soft rustle of Mila’s snores from the disgruntled and sleep deprived Den-Den snail, prompting him to give it a look of softened pity. A few small gentle taps to the eyeballs of the snail seemed to cause it comfort, so he continued to do so while he moved it over to the desk in the corner of his quarters. 

He waited until she woke naturally, truly reveling in the way her little sleep sounds were truly and distinctively hers. This only spurred him on to craft a finer arrangement of items he invented to guide her home to him. He wanted her home with him.

Their home, together, right there on the Polar Tang.

[isekyaaa]

I'm reading a fanfiction currently about a girl that was isekai'd into AoaB with knowledge of everything that's going to happen in the future. It's a very good series of fics, but it's almost painful to get through. Though Myne has so many things going against her, somehow the main character in the fic, Mila, has it worse. Everything she works for she struggles to achieve. Nobody gives her any chances. Nobody is looking out for her. She can escape death and more and nobody will care. It's honestly depressing.

Reading it, I can't help but put myself in Mila's shoes and think how I'd feel if I got isekai'd into a world with knowledge of the future, and despite this, everyone, all the characters I love, treating me like a nuisance and a liability than someone of worth. But at the same time it makes sense. Even if Mila is the main character of the fic, the real main character is Rozemyne. That's who the world circles around. But still, as someone that rooting for Mila reading this, I just want happier things to happen to her.

[struniolos]

some madness & badness combination

[revnah1406]

✨HAPPY BIRTHDAY @efingart!!!✨

Here's a little gift for you my dear!!💖

I found a beautiful render on twitter of Valeria and Alejandro (credits to the respective author of course✨) and I thought it could be the perfect reference for this drawing I had in mind!!

I keep working on how to draw Mila properly, I want to do her justice, as the gorgeous woman she is. I'll keep trying!!

I think Woods and Mila would be amazing models hahaha! So what if "Just What I Needed" is a Fashion Magazine Cover? 👀👀

Anyway, I hope you have the most wonderful day and an Amazing birthday!! 💖💕 you deserve everything good in this world! I'm so proud of you!

Love ya with all my heart!! 🥰🥰❤️

Little extra 💖

[lover-also-fighter-also]

INTRO POST (Note: Subject to Change)

Hi y'all,

You can call me Akhi/Huffle, anything works for me. My blog is mostly centered around Choices: Stories you play content. Some other stuff about me:

Pronouns: She/Her (cis woman)

Age: Born in 2002

Content overview: I mostly do reblogs for fanfics, memes, art content on choices. But I am working on making my own creations.

You can view my masterlist for all my MC's right here.

My content:

Mini fics - I sometimes write little fanfictions for the MC's in my masterlist. Please check them out here.

Asks about them or any other choices related stuff are welcome.

[enchantzz]

Mitchell's Diary - In over my Head

One-shots in the series of Art & Vampires. Excerpts from Mitchell’s diary.

Words: 767

Being a badass male vampire doesn't mean you can handle female vampires 😁

References to stories in the Art & Vampires series - 1. New Orleans and 2. London and 6. New York

Art & Vampires is about the relationship and developments around Mitchell, a vampire and Amy (Ames), a human. It’s about the vampire world, the supernatural, but also about history, cities around the world, art, antiques and adventures.

Face claims vampires: Aidan Turner - John Mitchell, Richard Armitage - Rick Marlowe, Jaime Murray - Alana (Lana) Lenoir and Ben Barnes - Ben Sheldon. Humans: Mila Kunis - Amy (Ames) Quinn, Bianca Lawson - Lena Parker (witch).

List of Mitchell’s diary One Shots in the Art & Vampires Master list

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Rick warned me,  but of course I didn't listen.  That time,  I was in way over my head and I can tell you that being immortal is less attractive when Alana keeps bringing up your mistake and rubs your face in it every time she gets the chance. But what can I say,  she was a beauty.  

I'm talking about Neesha of course.  

I'll never forget her and not just because Lana keeps reminding me, the she-devil. I hope she doesn't get her hands on this diary,  otherwise I'm screwed,  like that time I got involved with Neesha. And I mean literally.

It was in the forties, nineteen forties. I need to remember to mention the centuries.  We were back in London and I had been able to get my life,  or existence, to be exact,  back on track after,  well,  you know,  Belle.  

I had been thinking.  I couldn't go through any of that again, losing a loved one.  I'd had a hard enough time before Belle,  dealing with the fact that you will always outlive your loved ones,  but losing Belle hit hard, as you are well aware,  because I've written diaries full of my laments.  

So,  I had a plan,  a brilliant one.  I had the perfect solution.  I would get myself a female vampire companion,  who would never leave me and I would have eternal happiness.  Neesha was going to be just that. Or so I thought.

In the first half of the 20th century,  we moved around from New Orleans to New York,  and finally back to London. After the war, London was a mess. The city was severely damaged and even though our neighborhood wasn't spared,  The Mayfair,  our mansion,  was.  We moved back for a while to keep an eye on things and make sure that it remained our house. People who lost their homes during the bombings of London were being relocated to abandoned houses and we needed to make sure that our mansion was not going to be taken over by others. 

Fortunately for me,  even though the city was damaged and the people were recovering from the war,  there were always parties to be found.  Especially for us vampires. 

As you can imagine,  I was spending as much time as I could attending as many parties as I could.  I was determined to find that vampire companion and never be sad again.  

Neesha was a gorgeous goddess, who stood out amongst the crowd like a shining star in the dark night sky,  quite literally,  with her shiny jewelry and extravagant silver dress.

I can't even remember how I got there,  to that party,  but I will always remember the sight of her and how I,  half intoxicated,  chatted her up and actually managed to get her undivided attention.  

As said,  Rick had warned me not to get involved with her. He had an eye for 'trouble', but,  you know,  I had my plan and this scrumptious woman was going to fit that perfectly.  

To this day I'm still not sure if she was playing with me,  like a cat with her prey,  or if I had enamored her with my charm.

By the end of the night, having abandoned Rick and Alana, I found myself in Neesha's arms, or in hindsight,  claws,  in what seemed to be a former hotel somewhere in the city.  She had made the hotel her home  and the top room,  with a huge skylight,  was her den.  

I don't know how many times we fucked, but it seemed like we did nothing else for days.  It was like I was under her spell and I couldn't get free and I am man enough to admit that my dick actually hurt! 

You know,  as vampires,  we recover quickly,  also on that front,  but after Neesha,  I was about ready to be celebate for the rest of my immortal life. 

At some point,  I must have seen the light and realize that I wasn't ready to have my existence ended by sex.  Even if death by sex sounds pleasant enough.  So,  I ran and didn't look back and my not so brilliant plan of getting a vampire companion went out the door with me.  I didn't stay celibate of course,  but those are stories for another time. 

Anyway,  I'm not sure why I wrote down this memory.  Maybe it's because Ames was fishing for embarrassing stories from the past and I didn't really want to confess all this to her.  Or maybe it's a way of letting go. Now if only Alana could do the same. 

Time to say goodnight for now and hide you well,  my dear diary.  I'm ready to join my sweet Ames in bed, cuddle up to her and make pleasant memories.

If you enjoyed reading the story, please consider leaving a comment, a like or reblog the story. Reblogging really helps with visibility. Thank you for sharing the love 💜

@linasofia @leonxrdosreign @lathalea @legolasbadass @frosticenow @i-did-not-mean-to @sweetestgbye @shiinata-library@middleearthpixie @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @littlesweetdressmaker @guardianofrivendell @laurfilijames @aidan-26 @peneigh-dzredfohl @evenstaredits @turnitdownsometimes @lisstu69

If you would like to be tagged (or removed from the tags) please let me know. Thank you.

[sylusheart]

valedictorian ft. evervale

word count. 1,189

cw. cock riding, reverse cowboy, doggy style, swearing, begging, top!victor, bottom!eli, slight teasing, evervale being evervale <3

a/n. just some quick lockland!evervale smut bc why not, they're both late for class because eli was being a brat and vic ends up fucking him into oblivion

ao3 version

lewd sounds filled the room as eli’s ass slapped against victor’s hips in a continuous rhythm.

“that’s right, just like that,” victor cooed. his head dropped back against the headboard of his bed with a thud, eyes closing in bliss as eli continued to ride him.

reverse cowboy was a position they both enjoyed a little too much. victor loved watching eli’s round ass take up his cock from this angle whilst he got to lay back and enjoy the view. whereas eli liked the way it made him feel. although he thoroughly enjoyed victor taking lead, he loved having the opportunity to experiment at his own pace. it made him feel sexy.

empowering.

they hadn’t bothered to strip completely naked - seeing as they were supposed to get going soon. eli was shirtless, sweat glistened on his tan chest though his black pants stayed on - pushed down just enough to accommodate where his and victor’s flesh met.

victor wore nothing but his white button-down dress shirt, the only white garment he had in his black-focused closet. the shirt was dishevelled with the buttons half done and his collar sticking out in odd directions.

victor glanced at his wristwatch. it seemed to have still stayed on even when eli and victor were hastily ripping each other’s clothes off.

“shit,” victor cursed. “we’ll be late for class if you don’t speed up.”

“‘m trying,” eli mumbled, “thigh’s hurt.”

victor sighed, rolling his eyes. his pale fingers curled around eli’s waist which caused eli to stop in his movements. victor held back a groan as eli tightened around his cock again.

with quick movements, victor got up from the bed. eli mewled as victor rather roughly slid out of him, he twisted his head to look at him - narrowing his eyes in annoyance.

before eli could say anything, victor pulled eli to the edge of the bed - forcing him face down against the mattress. he gripped eli’s waist as he stood beside the bed, aligning his cock with eli’s gaping hole.

without warning, victor pushed himself in. they both groaned and eli’s back arched to accommodate victor’s girth.

“mmf, would it kill you to be gentle for once?” eli muttered, catching his breath as he got used to the feeling of victor filling him up again.

“yeah, probably,” said victor dryly. he leaned over, his nose almost touching the back of eli’s ear. with a hand slowly shaking around eli’s throat he said, “but we both know you like it best the way we always do it.”

eli tried not to produce any sort of physical reaction to victor’s words. though he was sure his skin started to prickle over victor’s low voice, teasing him, messing with him.

eli couldn’t even choke out a snark response because of victor’s sudden eagerness. victor leaned back to straighten his posture and then thrusted. hard . in and out of eli at an impossibly fierce pace.

his grip on eli’s waist tightened even more so now as he guided eli’s plump ass on his cock. he rammed into eli so brutally the bed was started to croak embarrassingly louder. eli was sure anyone outside their dorm could hear them go at it. victor thought this too, then he thought about how eli would probably enjoy if he were being watched. enjoy how victor would dominate and claim him in front of everyone.

that idea drove victor wild.

he grunted and moved his hand to grip eli’s ass. just the sight of it slapping against him was intoxicating him.

he let out a wry chuckle, his hand coming down to roughly pat eli’s backside. “you love taking my cock don’t you? love how it feels in your tight ass, right?”

eli loved whenever victor spoke like that. all dirty and honest. he was sure all it took was his inappropriate words to get eli on edge. he felt his tip leak with pre-cum, desperate to reach climax.

“hah- fuck. more, vic.” eli whined, his thighs were quivering and his ass was red from the way victor had been squeezing it.

“answer me.” victor demanded.

“yes, yes, i do. i love it. i want you to cum inside me.” eli begged, arching his back even more. victor, delighted by eli’s desperation, smiled.

“please?” victor joked. he halted in his movements, letting his cock just sit inside eli’s tight hole just to toy with him.

eli let out a strangled moan. it was music to victor’s ears. if he had no restraint left, he was sure he would’ve came just from the sound.

“please, vic. i want your cum.” eli begged again, seemingly embarrassed by how desperate he was to be filled by victor.

“that’s it,” victor praised, his smirk widening. eli gasped as victor began thrusting into him once again. his cock brushed inside all the right places, eli shivered, his body shaking and about to cum.

“go on, make a mess for me. then let me ruin you.” victor growled, voice harsh and husky-like. it was clear he was soon to find climax too.

“yeah, ha- ah. victor… ‘m gonna,” seeing as victor held eli against the sheets, his cock was pressed up against himself causing eli’s release to shoot against his chest and over the sheets. his wet spill dampened the sheets. and though it should’ve been gross, it aroused eli even more. how he was being fucked in his own mess. how victor continued to brutally pump into him through his orgasm. victor groaned as he felt eli’s hole squeeze around him, how it pulsated as more ropes of cum spilled from his cock.

victor let out a laugh, shaking his head, “always so messy, hm?”

“mmh, feels s’good, vic. keep going, please.” eli begged, his eyes almost lifeless from exhaustion. his hands quivered as he tightened his hold on the wet sheets.

“oh i will. this hole is mine. mine to fuck. mine to mess with.” victor grunted, he was starting to see white with how fast he was going. he felt his cock twitch inside eli, a sign he was about to cum.

“yes, yes,” eli chanted, “don’t stop, vic.”

victor obliged, even as his cock spilled his seed into eli’s ass he kept going, the release of his cum helped him slide in and out more easily. naughty sounds of squelching accompanied their moans.

victor slowly pulled himself out, his cock completely coated in his own arousal. he let out a shaky breath as he watched eli’s empty hole leak out his release. it pulsated, as if expecting for victor to intrude in on him again.

fuck, maybe he went a little overboard. given the amount he came, the amount they both came, it was more than anything eli was used to handling.

“you alright?” victor said, tilting his head to the side to inspect eli’s dazed form.

“perfect,” eli mumbled, face still pressed against the mattress.

victor smirked, adoring the way his little fuck-toy looked sprawled on his bed in their shared dorm. he plucked eli’s forgotten shirt from the floor and threw it at him. fixing up the collar and buttons of his own shirt as he approached the mirror.

“time for class, pretty boy.”

sylusheart © all rights reserved.

[stylezxsilvermoon]

but i'd bet we'd have really good (bed chem) fic masterlist

excerpt: essentially just a smut one-shot that's a short series!

pt. 1: «come right on me! I mean camaraderie!»

pt. 2 «who's the boy with the wide blue eyes and the big bad mmm?»

[pisupsala]

✨Mila's (Early) Endless Summer Reading List ✨

I'm packing my bags, so I thought I should pack my favorite stories: stuff that's been on my to-read list for too long, stuff I just enjoy re-reading and want you to know about, something to get me through the long-haul flight, something for sipping cocktails on the beach. I'm going to be updating the list with your recommendations and more stuff that I find. So:

Recommendations? 💕 YES PLEASE!

Recommend your own work? FUCK YES! ✨ minors dni, respect the author's tags, and show them some love by commenting and reblogging.

✨ TGM

mostly Bradley Bradshaw tbh lmao * This Love Came Back To Me by @beyondthesefourwalls i love these kinds of plots and it's so sweet *Remember You Even When I Don't by @beyondthesefourwalls i bizarrely never actually finished this and i will have to rectify this pronto *The Younger Kind by @roosterforme im like 20 chapters behind, soooo excited to binge this

*Leave a Light On by @sometimesanalice comfort story right here

*Hey Sailor by @sometimesanalice no notes, just yum

*Less Talk by @tongue-like-a-razor a jake story??? yes and i love this one *Faking It by @tongue-like-a-razor a classic, a must-read

*Little Wallflower by @bradshawsbitch it warms my poor heart and i feel this story on a personal level since I've been dealing with hearing loss

*Mise en Place by @bradshawsbitch hands down on my favorite AUs

*(christmas) baby please come home by @gretagerwigsmuse this fic influenced me so hard i bought a theragun *and even when we’re wrong in every way, we come out the other side okay by @gretagerwigsmuse actually just anything Jordan has ever done with the Smart Alec universe, you should read it

*Concerned Neighbor by @mothdruid this is just hot and you should enjoy it

*The Boyfriend Experience by @notroosterbradshaw i swear this is the fic that got me writing again, so if you like anything I've ever done you should go show Cass some love. *Don't Hang 'Em Till Noon by @sailor-aviator Jake western!AU? I knew I was rewatching Deadwood for a reason. Excited!! recommended by @goldenseresinretriever *Fool's Fare by @sailor-aviator A Jake pirate!AU while I'm on a beach in the Caribbean? Sign. me. up. Also recommended by @goldenseresinretriever *You Catch More Bees With Honey by @goldenseresinretriever I've seen this on my dash so much, but I shamefully never got around to it. How did you know I like hockey?

✨

Masters of the Air

Trust by @blurredcolour yeaaaaah, im obsessed. im deceased. this is so good.

prettier than a peach by @honeyskywitch reading this on my flight, so excited!

Oblivious by @sagesolsticewrites saving this one for the airport~

[mila-beedoodling]

You see when you have the urge to do something? Well, that

(all made with my art xD)

[giasesshoumaru]

Gia's Fic Masterlist [Yuri On Ice]

This is a list of all the fics I’ve written that are posted to AO3 for Harry Potter. Those that are also on FFN or Tumblr will have links to that, too. This will not include any stories that are a permanent WIP, but any fics from abandoned series will be marked.

Harry Potter || Yuri On Ice || Miscellaneous

Bad Week || Written with @otabekvoiceblog || Rating: Explicit || Pairing: Otayuri || With Europeans over and the Olympics on the horizon, the stress has started to get to Yuri. Otabek endeavors to change that. || Tags: Underage, Yuri is 16, Fluff and Smut, Dom/Sub, Food Porn

Between Friends || Rating: Explicit || Pairing: Mila/Yuri || Yuri and Mila have always been training mates and maybe even friends. Despite some innocent exploration, nothing became of it. What happens when they kiss as adults? || Tags: Friends to Lovers, Friends with Benefits, Eventual Smut, Underage in the First Half

Coming Home || Written with @jfrosty1983 || Rating: Teen || Pairing; Viktuuri || Viktor comes home to Yuuri after the European Championships. || Tags: Fluff

Just Love Me || Written with @otabekvoiceblog || Rating: Explicit || Pairing: Otayuri || After their fight, Yuri does his best to make it up to Otabek as the two do some reminiscing about their wedding and talking about their honeymoon. || Tags: Fluff and Smut, Fluff, Smut, Sub Yuri Plisetsky, Dom Otabek Altin, Dom/Sub || Tumblr

Moments in the Onsen || Rating: Explicit || Pairing: Otabek x Yuuri, Viktuuri, Otabek & Yuri || While Viktor is out with Chris, Yuuri and Otabek have a stolen moment in the Onsen together. || Tags: Sexual Content, Cheating, Smut, Light, Emotional Infidelity

New Frontiers and Familiar Territories || Rating: Explicit || Pairings: Viktuuri, Otabek & Yuri || Yuuri is finally in St. Petersburg with Viktor. There are new rinkmates, but there's also Viktor, and nothing is better than that. Meanwhile, Yuri has a conversation with his friend, Otabek. || Tags: Sexual Content, Fluf and Smut, Rough Sex, Praise Kink || Notes: Discontinued Series

One Day || Rating: General || Pairing: Viktuuri || Prince Yuuri of Ajantara is in love with Viktor, the Elven King of Rusanaria. Neither of them thought that it would be a problem that Yuuri isn't pure Elven. || Tags: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Elves, Romance, Fluff, references to Omegaverse

Touch My World With You || Written with @otabekvoiceblog || Rating: Explicit || Pairing: Otayuri || After the Exhibitions at Worlds, Yuri and Otabek go back to the hotel room to wind down after a long season. || Tags: Underage, Yuri is 17, Fluff and Smut, Dom/Sub

Cancer AU

Say It || Rating: Teen || Pairing: Viktuuri, Otayuri || After feeling sick for the past couple of months, Yuri gets a bad diagnosis from the doctor. || Tags: Cancer, Heavy Angst || Tumblr FFN

The Other Shoe Drops || Rating: Teen || Pairing: Viktuuri, Otayuri || Otabek finds out the results of Yuri's doctor appointment. || Tags: Cancer, Heavy Angst || Tumblr FFN

Drabble Prompts

What I Need || Rating: Explicit | Pairing: Otayuri || Fire Meme Drabble at the request of bekayim; Character Requested: Otabek :: Tags: Sexual Content, Masturbation, Light Dom/Sub || Tumblr

Always || Rating: Teen || Pairing : Otayuri || onotherflights asked:

otayuri, 14. “Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always.” ♡ || Tags: First Kiss, Surprise Kissing || Tumblr

Rest || Rating: General || Pairing: Otayuri || anonymous asked: 38, Otayuri “You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.” || Tumblr

You Know You Want It || Rating: Teen || Pairing: Pliroy || jfrosty1983 asked: 22. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.” JJ and Yuri || Tags: Cheating, Suprise Kissing, Infidelity, Angry Kissing || Tumblr

You Got Me || Rating: Teen || Pairing: Otayuri || jfrosty1983 asked:

Kisses through a haze of rain. Yuri and Otabek Or Viktor and Yuuri. You choose! || Tags: Fear of Thunderstorms, Kissing || Tumblr

One Kiss || Rating: General || Pairing: Viktuuri || nyankittyblr asked: prompt 21 for viktuuri? :3 21. One kiss limit. || Tumblr

Haven't Seen the Last of Me || Rating: Teen | Pairing: Otayuri || Yuri is injured. He is not too happy about this. || Tags: Injury, Established Relationship || Tumblr

Missing Scenes

Aftermath || Rating: Teen || Viktor just heard Yuuri say that katsudon was his eros, and after Yuuri runs out of the room, Viktor is free to show how he really feels about that. Expansion scene of Episode 3. || FFN

Not Giving In || Rating: Teen || As Yuri rides the train back to Fukuoka, he thinks about Viktor, his own loss to Katsuki Yuuri, and how it affects his future. || FFN

Now I Know || Rating: General || Pairing: Viktuuri (pre-relationship) || After Yuuri's comments announcing his theme on live television, Viktor has a lot of thinking to do. || Tags: Light Angst, Romance || FFN

The Right Direction || Rating: General || Pairing: Viktuuri (pre-relationship) || Yuuri and Viktor grow closer as Yuuri’s first Grand Prix of the season nears. || Tags: Romance, Angst || FFN

Shattered Glass || Rating: M || Pairing: Viktuuri || Yuuri, his family, and friends all react to The Kiss. Yuuri and Viktor must come to terms with it, as well. || Tags: Sexual Content, Angst, First Time, Angst and Fluff and Smut || FFN

The Color Green || Rating: Teen || Pairing: Viktuuri || Jealousy rears its head after Yuuri sees Viktor flirting with some fans as they prepare for the Rostelecom Cup. Meanwhile, Viktor also has something that he needs to discuss with Yuuri. || Tags: Fluff and Angst || FFN

Quiet Moments || Rating: General || Pairing: Viktuuri || Yuuri and Yurio have a run-in with a fan. When Yuuri gets back to his hotel, he has a moment of reflection. || Tags: Light Angst || FFN

Filling the Void || Rating: Explicit || Pairings: Viktuuri, Takeshi/Yuuko || Viktor and Yuuri have a loving, touching reunion at the airport. Afterward, Viktor has a proposition for him. Meanwhile, Yuuko and Takeshi do some spying. || Tags: Fluff, Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut || FFN

Complete In Your Arms || Rating: Explicit || Pairing: Viktuuri || Viktor and Yuuri have some talking to do after the truth comes out about Yuuri not remembering the banquet. || Tags: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Sexual Content || FFN

On Love and Separation || Rating: Explicit || Pairing: Viktuuri || Viktor and Yuuri revel in the aftermath of the Grand Prix Final, but it is short-lived. Their decisions force them to separate as they both lead up to Nationals. They must learn to deal with the separation as they prepare for Nationals, where everyone has something to prove. || Tags: Sexual Content, Angst and Fluff and Smut || FFN

Otabek Altin Week 2018

It Wasn't Like That || Rating: Teen || Pairing: Otayuri || Otabek overhears Yuri on a phone call with his grandfather after Yuri snuck out to a club to see him. || Tags: Established Relationship, Yuri is 17 || Tumblr FFN

Heartbreak and Victory || Rating: Teen || Pairing: Otayuri || Yuri gets injured before the Olympics and can't compete, so Otabek competes for both of them. || Tags: Fluff, Light Angst || Tumblr FFN

The DJ And His Sexy Club Kitten || Pairing: Teen || Pairing: Otayuri || The club night mentioned in Day One. || Tags: Established Relationship, Light Dom/Sub || Tumblr FFN

The Other Shoe Drops || Info Above Under Cancer AU || Tumblr FFN

Permanent Remembrance || Rating: Teen | Pairing: Otayuri || Yuri keeps misplacing his engagement ring. As they go to buy their wedding rings, Otabek has an idea to change that. || Tags: Fluff, Established Relationship || Tumblr FFN

The Path Here || Rating: General || Pairing: Otayuri || Otabek and Yuri reminisce about the long path there on their wedding day. || Tags: Fluff, Established Relationship || Tumblr FFN

Birthday to Remember || Rating: Teen || Pairing: Otayuri || Yuri takes Otabek out for Halloween for his birthday. || Tags: Fluff, Established Relationship || Tumblr FFN

Want and Dare

You Know You Want It || Info Above Under Drabble Prompts || Tumblr

How Dare You || Rating: Explicit || Pairing: Pliroy || jfrosty1983 asked: #26 the YOI pairing of your choice:) micro-story prompt = #26 - how dare [you]. Can be read as a stand-alone. || Tags: Rerefences to Cheating, Implied Masturbation

Yuri On Ice Omegaverse Week 2020

We'll See || Rating: Teen || Pairing: Pliroy || Yuri hates the idea of soulmates. Fate has other plans for him. || Tags: Fluff, Getting Together

A Wedding and a Stranger || Rating: Explicit || Pairing: Otayuri || Omega Prince Yuri gets married to Alpha Prince Otabek, whom he's never met. A wedding night ensues. || Tags: Smut, AU - Royalty

Mine || Rating: Teen || Pairing: Explicit || Otabek has to get possessive of his boyfriend when a stranger at a club messes with Yuri. || Tags: Protectiveness

[randomnameless]

I appreciate that at least they stayed consistent with the Sword of the Creator being Crest of Flames-exclusive and, as such, Byleth can no longer use it post-CF and is shown using a normal sword instead in their solo and S-Supported Jeritza ending pictures; makes it all the more baffling that they're still alive despite their heart being destroyed and that the Sothis S-Support exists in that route, but i'll give them credit where it's due for keeping the SOTC's lore consistent.

Post Tru Piss, there's no Crest Stone left for the SoC!

So I'd say it's not that it's CoF exclusice, but rather something like without a crest stone, a relic, even the SoC, doesn't "work" anymore.

Adding insult to the injury though, Post!Tru Piss Billy uses Rhea's sword, aka, a Holy Weapon that could be used by everyone (human and nabatean!) and even heal non-crested people : Billy uses at the end of the "we will make a world for humans!" route a sword that conveyed coexistence between humans and nabateans...

Sothis' S-support in this route really felt odd, because she acknowledges Rhea at least, but has no words for her passing when Rhea died crying for her.

Some people tried to theorise that this Sothis isn't the one Rhea remembers so she wouldn't have feelings about her... but idk, it still feels dead wrong, especially since Sothis remembered feelings of joy and sadness in Zanado, and ultimately remembers how Rhea is a her kid thanks to the lullaby (and in SS when she "talks" to her).

If Sothis was a better written character and not accidently written to be the most toxic parent in the FE series, I'd maybe write something about her feeling so bad that, again, she was used to slaughter one of her own children (Nemesis first in Zanado, and now Billy in Tailtean) but as canon!Sothis is, I'm not really motivated to do something like this.

[struniolos]

sorry for being a little m.i.a and not as active the past few days, had a death in the family and am not doing too great. not feeling as freaky & horny as usual lmfao. part two of guitar lessons won’t be until at least next week, need time to get back in the zone :3